


What If?

by borislegasov



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: A Happy Ending, Defying canon, Defying science, Depression, Eventual Happiness, Fix-It, M/M, References to Depression, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borislegasov/pseuds/borislegasov
Summary: A story set in a world wherein Boris and Valery don't fall victim to the cruel effects of radiation. They think they should be unwell, but feel startlingly healthy... This story defies all radiation based science, logic and reality itself. But it gives these two wonderful people exactly what they deserved: a happy ending.
Relationships: Valery Legasov & Boris Shcherbina, Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Connections

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. Though it's based in the same time that the Chernobyl disaster occurred, the characters I write in this story are based off of Craig Mazin's interpretation of Valery and Boris, and is meant as no disrespect to those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

**“For God’s sake, Boris, you were the one who mattered most.”**

Boris awoke with a start, sitting up as his lungs drew in a breath as quickly and as sharply as they could muster. He had heard the voice again. The intensity of Valery Legasov’s voice rang in his mind, repeating the same thing over and over again, like a mantra designed to give him hope. 

**“You were the one who mattered most.”**

He could hear the unspoken words that followed. He could hear Valery telling him that he mattered the most to  _ him _ , not to the State nor Chernobyl itself. He could hear the unspoken words, and see the glint in Valery’s eyes as if it happened just yesterday. Sometimes it felt like every waking moment was dedicated to replaying this moment in Boris’ mind - and he couldn’t say that he was surprised, because it had been the singular moment in his life that had meant the most to him. He remembered the glint in Valery’s eyes as they spoke to one another; their eyes connecting and executing an entirely different, silent conversation. The two had spent so much time together that they could communicate clearly without words, but only they could understand. Whilst sitting on the bench together, feeling the nip of the cool air, they spoke in detail about their futures without uttering a single word. Yet, somehow, they had both understood each other as if they were spelling it out letter by letter. Boris hoped that, wherever Valery was, he remembered what Boris had shown him within his eyes. In that moment, he had bared his soul to him, hoping that the memory would remain with him and somehow reunite them.   
  
He hadn’t heard a single word on the whereabouts or welfare of Valery Legasov. He hadn’t heard a whisper, seen a silent gesture, nor read a tiny hint. He had been completely blocked off from discussing him, hearing about him, reading about him - it often felt like a colossal wall had been planted around him. He often pondered about where Valery would be. Would he be living at his old residence with his cat? Had he found love? That thought made his heart pang every single time and even though he wanted him to be happy, he simply couldn’t abide the thought that he had fallen in love with someone else when Boris was still entirely stuck in his bubble. A thought that overwhelmed him more frequently however was whether he was severely unwell. Whether he had passed away, silently and undignified; just what the State wanted but definitely not what such a significant presence deserved. Valery had, without a doubt, changed the entire course of his life selflessly to save others, but he would die without recognition nor appreciation - and that hurt more than anything. It wounded deeper than any other scar his body held within its skin.   
  
Though Boris felt surprisingly better than he had ever anticipated and was pulling an almost clean bill of health (the only thing that marred it was the weakness in his lungs). He hadn’t expected to feel, or be, so well. He had expected to be on his deathbed, if not already dead, and was astounded every single day when he opened his eyes to see the early morning sun shining through the thin curtains. He laid in bed every single morning and listened to the birds chirping, simply enjoying the melodic tones of nature and allowing the world to drift by for a few moments. Whilst laying in bed he thought about how lucky he was and silently prayed that Valery would possess the same luck - just as he deserved. This morning was no different. He remained sat up in bed, but had reclined slightly since initially waking up. He leaned further back against the plush pillows, staring out towards the window and watching the curtains ripple softly with the gentle morning breeze. 

He laid there for longer than usual, minutes passing, turning quickly into thirty minutes, forty, fifty, until an hour later the chiming of the grandfather clock disturbed him from melancholy. He pushed the sheet off of his legs and sat up fully, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He felt sombre, dull and lifeless, completely possessed by the depression that often lingered in the back of his mind. The accident caused some adverse occurrences in his life, but by far the worst ailment that came from it was his depression, stemming mainly from the fact that he had lost his number one lifeline: Valera. 

The day moved by with lethargy. As each minute passed, Boris became increasingly worked up. He wanted, somehow, to locate Valery. He had phoned his connections within the government, who assured him that they would do their best to pinpoint his location, his health records, and anything else they could find. As the hours passed, though, it became increasingly clear that he wasn’t going to get his answer anytime soon; and he knew it was time he took matters into his own hands. 

He picked up the receiver of his phone and paused for a moment. He hesitated only momentarily.

“Belarusian Institute of Nuclear Energy,” he spoke clearly; his voice more hoarse than normal.   
  
The phone clicked, then began to ring. He had, thankfully, been put straight through without having to explain who he was, who he was trying to contact and more importantly: why. The last thing he needed was someone sticking their nose in, though he had no doubt that his phone line had been heavily tapped and his call was inevitably being listened to. There was a part of him that simply didn’t care what the State’s puppets thought of him; but he didn’t want to get Valery in more trouble.    
  
“Hello,” came a deep voice from the other end of the line. 

“Ulana Khomyuck, please,” he responded coolly.    
  
“May I ask who’s calling?” the question, though inevitable, still made him pause for a beat.   
  
“Boris Shcherbina, though my official title-” he replied coolly, but was interrupted.

“Oh! I know who you are. I’ve been told to alert Ulana immediately if you were to call. Please excuse me.” 

Whilst the phone was silent, Boris was overwhelmed with the ringing in his ears. He wasn’t overly surprised about the internal sound, given that his heart was pounding heavier than it had the very first time he had seen the split open nuclear reactor. He needed to calm down, but didn’t think he would be able to until a couple of pressing questions were answered.

“Comrade Shcherbina,” the softly spoken voice of Ulana broke him away from his thoughts. 

“Ah! I believe we can do away with pleasantries, Khomyuck,” he replied lightly. 

“Of course - then please, call me Ulana,” she quipped. He could almost hear the smile. 

“Ulana.” He repeated, as if testing the water. “I was wondering if you possibly have any way of contacting the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy?”

There was a distinct pause. 

The nerves were mounting up rapidly. He knew the risks they were both taking in having this phone call, but he knew that the KGB simply couldn’t surmise anything from something as basic as requesting a phone number for an Institute. There could be no connection, as far as Boris was concerned, which quelled any worries. He knew that his word would quell anything an agent could possibly pass on to their boss. 

“I do,” came a simple reply. “However, I’m sure you can understand that I cannot give you anything more specific than their base number.” Her tone sounded apologetic, and he felt almost guilty in asking her to do this.

“You have my utmost gratitude,” he replied softly. 

She read out the number, exchanged a few more pleasantries and then hung up. He felt completely bewildered by it all; he hadn’t expected to communicate so thoroughly with Ulana, and much less had he expected to feel so light after it. He felt considerably less burdened than he did prior to picking up the phone - but he knew that he had another call to make. 

He took a deep breath, staring at the paper he held tightly in his hand. He was hesitating purely out of trepidation and the fear that he wouldn’t get anywhere. If he didn’t make the call, he could have a remnant of joy in his heart under the guise of “what if I could talk to him?”, whereas if he made the call and was unable to communicate with Valery, he knew the dark cloud within his heart would amplify tenfold.  
  
The number looked somewhat bizarre to him given that it had been assigned to an institute. It held more resemblance of a domestic phone number. He didn’t give it another thought, however, because he knew his mind was probably playing tricks on him. He knew that his heart was using his hopefulness against him; and that he was to pay the anomaly no mind. Without another thought, he dialled the number with a remarkable dexterity given his trembling fingers. 

Moments passed.

The ticking of the clock, perched atop the mantle, taunted him. It seemed to exaggerate just how long he had been sat waiting for the phone to be answered.

What he heard when the receiver was picked up by whomever he was being connected to nearly made him fall out of his chair. 

“Valery Legasov,” his voice sounded soft, smooth, delicate… Just like he remembered. 

The brilliant Ulana Khomyuck had misled the agent on the other end of the line. She hadn’t given him the phone number for the institute at all - she had directed him to Valery’s home phone instead! The agents were rapidly losing interest in properly following Boris’ actions, and he knew full well that they would’ve stopped listening in the moment she said that she can only provide a basic phone number for them, which allowed her time to read out the number, and then allowed him to even get as far as connecting the call - if they had been listening, he would not have been able to get so far. Though he was free from listening ears, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He was completely dumbfounded at the turn of events - to say that this was the least expected outcome was a gross understatement.    
  
“Hello?” Valery questioned, his tone one of bemusement. “Is someone there?” 

Boris knew he had to find a way to obtain Valery’s address. He knew he wouldn’t be able to retrieve it from any usual methods, so he had to take a risk - as if he wasn’t doing so already. He cleared his throat, hoping to be able to disguise his voice well enough. He muffled the receiver at the same time, hoping to further cover his tracks. 

“Comrade, I have been scheduled to do a routine visit to your abode but I have misplaced your address. I cannot request it from my colleagues as they will report to my boss that I am incompetent. Can you furnish me with your address, please?” 

Boris almost laughed at how ridiculous that excuse sounded. He didn’t think for a fraction of a second that Valery would fall for that - but to his surprise, he went along with it and spoke his address clearly through the receiver, considerately pausing to presumably allow Boris to write it down. Boris punctuated each line of the address with a “yep” through the receiver, to which prompted Valery to speak again. Each time he spoke, his heart leapt. He couldn’t quite believe his extraordinary luck! 

“Did you get it all?” he asked, a definite tone of amusement in his voice.    
  
“Ah, yes, thank you,” he replied with an uneasy laugh. His nerves were getting the better of him and each passing second meant that his resolve crumbled to dust. He needed to disconnect the call as quickly as he could. “I will be arriving at your residence as soon as I can. Most likely later today. Please be ready to receive me.” With that, he hung up.

He leaned back in his chair, tipping his head backwards and heaving a sigh towards the ceiling. His heart was racing so much it felt inhuman, and his body was buzzing with an energy he hadn’t felt since his youth. He knew now, however, what he needed to do - and it had been affirmed to him by hearing Valery’s voice that he couldn’t waste a single moment. Enough time had been wasted already, so he moved with haste. He needed to take this piece of paper, a healthy sum of money, and request that his driver escort him to Valery Legasov’s home. 

The driver wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but soon wavered in his law abiding position when given the proposal for a handsome sum of money in exchange for his services and respective silence. Before he knew it, he was packed and on his way - all that remained in his house were the few possessions he couldn’t carry with him. He didn’t have much and had always lived a minimalist lifestyle which rewarded him well in a moment such as this. He stared out of the window the entire journey, watching the rolling hills and towering trees whizz by. He couldn’t find an ounce of him relaxed enough to sleep; though it wasn’t for a want of trying. 

When they pulled up at the house, Boris wasted little time in leaving the car. He didn’t want to get seen if anyone happened to be watching - he wanted, and needed, this to be as seamless as possible. 

“Thank you very much, Comrade. I will be forever indebted to you,” he whispered to the driver as he prepared to disembark. 

“No, I think we’re even now!” The driver responded jovially, clearly still pleased with the money he had been given. 

Boris smiled as he left the car, but it faded as he approached Valery’s front door. He took a deep breath, then raised his hand to knock loudly on the door… 

  
_ Please, Valera, please answer the door. Please come to the door and be okay. Smile. Laugh at the ridiculousness of me being here… Please, Valera.  _ He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet whilst he waited an eternity for the door to be opened - but nothing could prepare him for the way he would feel when it was opened. Nothing. 


	2. Alone Again, Naturally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery gets an unexpected phone call, and then an even more shocking visitor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all enjoying this story so far! It's making me immensely happy to write this, as I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Enjoy!

It had been two years since the explosion at Chernobyl, and Valery was falling victim to a more intense depression every single day. His body was succumbing to it faster than he ever thought possible - in fact, he believed the radiation would get there first. But depression is a cruel mistress and is unforgivable at best. Though not in a good place mentally, he felt okay physically. It scared him in a way, because he didn’t trust the wellness. It went against everything he knew about radiation and simply didn’t conform to what he had spent so much time studying. Every single day he had wrestled with the reasoning of why he wasn’t dead. He wondered why he of all people had been spared from such a tragic fate when those far better than him had suffered horrifically. He couldn’t understand why - and that bore a lot of frustration, to the point where he was constantly annoyed, bubbling over with anger, his rage occupying every single cell. He simply didn’t like not understanding something - he didn’t like things going against science, and he certainly didn’t enjoy believing he was wrong about something like this. He felt, to some degree, that he had been living a lie though he was adequately sane enough to consider the fact that it wasn’t a conscious lie, and much less did he understand  _ why _ it was a lie. It just… very clearly was. 

When he wondered about his demise, he found his mind going down a singular alternative track: Boris Shcherbina. He had not heard anything from him due to the endless probing of the KGB who had until recently been intercepting his mail, phone calls and prospective visitors. He supposed that they believed he wasn’t much of a threat anymore and had decided to leave him alone to die in peace. Was that an act of kindness to restore some dignity? Though he doubted they could feel such empathy, he found comfort in the fact that he was no longer under several pairs of watchful eyes. As the KGB had loosened off, Valery found himself considering reaching out to Boris. These thoughts plagued him on a daily basis but he didn’t know where to begin. No such record of Boris was accessible to him, and he highly doubted that he would be able to acquire his contact information. If he was even alive. He wondered if Boris had been as lucky as he, and whether he was living happily wherever he may be. He briefly thought about Ulana, too, and wondered what had happened to her. Regardless of where his thoughts wandered, they always managed to navigate themselves back to Boris. His Borja. 

He wondered whether Boris still thought of him in the same way, or whether he had become inconsequential in his memory. His rationality fought with his emotions; with his emotions telling him that he had probably been long forgotten, followed by his rationality reminding him of the relationship they shared and the unlikelihood of Boris ever forgetting him. The time they had shared together had been bittersweet. They had forged a bond that was irreplaceable, unforgettable and incomparable to anything else - and there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his mind that Boris had felt the same way about it. They had shared many a late night dodging the KGB, the bugs in their rooms and hiding in plain sight whilst being followed. They had shared secrets, passions, interests, hopes and dreams… Whilst believing that it would all come crashing down upon them; whether by the State or by radiation; or as Valery had often anticipated: both. 

It surprised Valery daily that he hadn’t succumbed to radiation illnesses, and had continued to feel relatively healthy despite his looming depression. It was only his depression that was making him unwell, and had it not been for that he would believe that Chernobyl hadn’t happened at all - but it was the memories that lurked when he closed his eyes at night that reminded him that it was all too real. Some days he wished he hadn’t made it through the other side. Most days he wished he had fallen ill whilst at Chernobyl and hadn’t made it to the end of the disaster. On the rare occasion, he felt glad that he had lived through the entirety - because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have felt love in those grim months. 

He had felt pure love with Boris, like nothing he had ever felt before, and nothing he would ever feel again. Though he feared the view was pessimistic, he knew it to be true. Boris had swept the rug from beneath his feet and had failed to replace it upon their unexpected parting. They had forged in depth plans in order to be together after the final court proceedings. They were going to flee to a gentler, more accepting country and live out the remainder of their days together - living like they would have had they met under different circumstances. But, as the KGB promptly caught up with him after the hearing, everything slipped violently out of the window. Isolated and alone, all he could think about was what could’ve been. What if he’d have lied like Boris had wanted? What if he’d have lied and allowed the State to fix the remaining reactors quietly? Would he be living the peaceful life with Boris? Would he be carefree, happy, content and loved? The questions were a constant tirade in his mind, never allowing him to rest.

The phone ringing tugged him back to reality. It startled him, given the fact that it was rare that someone should contact him. Despite his skepticism, he reached to answer the phone. 

“Valery Legasov,” he spoke as calmly as he could, considering his mental state. 

The line remained silent for some time. With each passing second he became increasingly puzzled. Why had someone called him only to then not utter a single word?    
  
“Hello? Is someone there?” Though confused, he couldn’t keep the edge of amusement away from his voice.

Following a brief silence, the voice came. “Comrade, I have been scheduled to do a routine visit to your abode but I have misplaced your address. I cannot request it from my colleagues as they will report to my boss that I am incompetent. Can you furnish me with your address, please?” It was a voice he vaguely recognised, but couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had heard the sharpness in the tone before, but he couldn’t place where - primarily because the voice was muffled and quiet. 

He frowned at the bizarre nature of the reasoning for requiring his address, but he hesitated none in complying. He didn’t really have anything to lose with handing out such personal information - and he didn’t have any reason to be suspicious. Very few people were given his contact information, so it was more likely than not it was an official call. He had no reason to doubt, and very little desire to put proper thought into it, so he read his address clearly. He paused frequently to allow the caller to jot it down, and continued recounting it. Once done and confirmed that the caller had written it all down, they bid one another goodbye. 

As he placed the phone down, he found himself becoming perplexed by the occurrence. Out of the blue, a man with a voice he recognised to a minimal degree requested his address. He couldn’t shake the confusion that had descended upon him and the slight bewilderment that came with it. Who was it? Why did he recognise the voice? Why did the tone behind the muffled notes of the voice sound so familiar? 

He eventually released himself of the burden of going round in circles trying to decipher who had called him and went about his day. He smoked a lot, read a book he had already read twenty times over, spoke to his cat, fed his cat… and then went back to the thoughts that had shrouded him earlier in the day. He went back to thinking about Boris; the way they were together in Chernobyl. How inseparable they were, by choice rather than requirement, and how they spent every waking moment forging a bond that he simply couldn’t abandon. They had spent every single waking moment together (and often spent their hours of sleep together too), and that had forged such a bond that had anchored its way deeply into his heart, and left him sighing like a lovelorn teenager. He felt like one most days; dreaming of his lover, wishing he could be held and loved… 

A sharp knock at the door dragged him from his contemplation. Something in his heart told him that he recognised the knock with its brevity, but his mind prompted him to recognise the ridiculousness of his hope. Though his hope and respective happiness were quashed almost instantly and he had the intense urge to ignore the door, he progressed towards it. As he reached for the handle, the knock sounded again. With a disgruntled sigh, he pulled open the door and was taken aback by who stood there. 

He looked like no time had passed. He wore a grey coat that stopped at his mid-thigh, that hugged his broad shoulders and muscular arms and fell right above his gloved hands. The buttons were undone, showing his broad chest clad in a formal white shirt, finished off with slim fit trousers and shiny boots. His hair was the only thing that would demonstrate the process of ageing in him - it was turning grey, though only mildly. He looked just as Valery remembered. Better, even. Much better. 

After examining him for a few beats, he looked back up to his eyes and gasped. 

“Borja?!” 


	3. An Unlikely Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A positive turn of events for our two wonderful men, with some intense emotions sprinkled in.

Boris couldn’t believe his eyes at the beauty that stood before him — Valery looked like he hadn’t agedl, though the lines decorating the outer corners of his eyes were more prominent than before and there was the tiniest spattering of grey hair at the front of his hairline. But the youthful glint in his eyes, the soft roundness of his cheeks and his slightly chunky stature still remained, prominent and as beautiful as ever — as it was the day they had met. 

He thought back to that day for a moment, remembering how unconcerned, flippant and oftentimes snappy he was to the younger man. He had believed every single word the State fed to him and trusted everything they told him. He remembered the foolishness and the regret that came with it from believing that the accident at Chernobyl wasn’t a big deal. That it was just mild contamination from a blown system tank, that it posed no risk to the people of Pripyat. He struggled daily with the pain that he had inevitably caused the residents of the city by refusing to push for the order of evacuation, even when Valery, with his abundance of experience and knowledge, had urged him to. At times, he’d pleaded for him to evacuate - but he had stood back and done nothing, insisting that he couldn’t do it, because he had been given orders and he was there only to execute said orders, nothing more. He hated that he hadn’t considered the people of Pripyat for a moment in those times, instead of thinking of only what would happen to his career if he didn’t comply with the General Secretary’s instructions. He was plagued most nights with nightmares about that, but was slowly working through them into accepting that what was done was done, and for the most part it was out of his control; but sometimes, he convinced himself that it was his fault. That the deaths rested on his shoulders. Even though in his heart of hearts, he knew that he was only doing what was expected of him and eventually they had presented the evidence that an evacuation order needed to be issued… But the damage had been done, and he knew he hadn’t done enough. But alas, he heaved the burdening thoughts to the back of his mind, stowing them away for a less endearing time; for now he had the possible love of his life stood before him, gawping at him.

He noticed the tears swimming in the younger man’s eyes, taking stock of the sheer amount that had brimmed there in the last few moments since he’d arrived at the door. One escaped, pouring down a flushed cheek, and he resisted extending a hand to wipe it away. Though the KGB had loosened off considerably it was still a risk to show physical affection in such a way and though it caused an intense ache to shoot up his arm as he forced it to stay by his side, he ignored the desire to trace the pad of his thumb over that sweet, tear-stained skin, to brush away that sweet tear… A sigh tumbled from his lips, then, and he leaned closer to Valery. 

“Might I come in?” He asked softly, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips, brows raising in question. 

“Oh-” Was the only reply he was offered before Valery stepped aside, holding the door wide open for him.  
He thanked him with a small nod, entering the apartment with a deep breath, taking in the scent that was so distinctly Valery — tobacco, sugar and a small spike of caffeine. It was a smell he’d missed, and wished on many occasions that he could’ve bottled up to carry with him always. He wanted nothing more than to take hold of the man and hold him close to him, simply so that he could inhale the scent of him and draw it into the depths of his lungs, committing it to memory; though he had every intention of never parting from the stubborn scientist ever again, so perhaps it was a futile exercise. As he stood in the hallway, registering the light sound of the door clicking closed and the lock sliding into place, his entire body thrummed with anticipation — his every sense was on edge, heightened to uncomfortable degrees, leaving him unable to control any one of them. None of it was being helped by the hammering of his heart, his blood pressure skyrocketing as he realised that he was, in fact, standing where he never thought he would stand again. It occurred to him that he had believed that he would never see this man ever again; that when the car was driven away from him and Valery had looked at him with such a solemn stare, that he had genuinely believed that he had lost him for good; that all he would have to cling to were the memories they had made together. He’d agonised for weeks to fathom a way to get back to him, to bring them back together, but every route he began to follow resulted in a brutal dead-end. There were many a moment wherein he had almost thrown in the towel, figuring it completely impossible that they would be able to reconnect, but there was something in his heart always encouraging him to continue - to persevere with the negativity, to push through the roadblocks… and it really had paid off. He was standing in the dimly lit hallway, the sound of Valery’s heavy breathing just steps behind him, the sound of the radio droning on in the kitchen, all things he would never be able to hear again. The sheer surprise that he had actually managed to succeed in getting this far hit him like a tonne of bricks to the gut, leaving him extremely breathless; but still there would be time to process that later — what mattered now was that he had the man he loved so dearly right behind him.

So, he turned on his heel to face him, his breath catching in his chest as his eyes focused in on the gorgeous, delicate blues staring back at him. The expression he saw on that sweet face was still bewildered, puzzled as ever, in need of an explanation - but in lieu of an explanation, he walked over to him and took his face in his hands. His fingers spread across the heated skin, thumbs rubbing close to the edge of his nose, the touch immediately searing the skin of his fingers in such a soothing way. He held his face in his hands, completely still, for a moment, just to allow himself the chance to stare deep into those gentle loving eyes, processing the handsomeness within them. After a few seconds he narrowed the gap between them considerably, their noses brushing as Boris tilted his head to the right. 

“I—” Boris attempted to speak, but found himself thoroughly speechless even though, ironically, he had so much that needed to be said. But he found that whatever needed to be said in that moment could easily be expressed with touches instead. He closed the gap between them then, brushing their lips together in a shy chaste kiss, revelling in the sweetness of the gasp that escaped the younger man’s lips upon the first contact of their lips after what felt like years. He allowed himself to sink further into the kiss after a beat, tilting his head just a little more to deepen it, their lips parting in perfect sync in response to the deepening heightening passion. They kissed deeply, longingly and with sheer desperation for a few minutes; only pulling away when the need to breathe became too much, both of them panting as they came back to. Boris withdrew just enough to take a good look at the expression Valery now wore; noticing how the tears were streaming steadily now, but a smile played on his lips, cheeks more flushed than before — he took the expression to be a good thing, the glint in his eyes prompting him to believe it even more; but he needed to check. He felt an undeniable need to make sure that he was okay, that the tears were positive, that he’d craved the kiss just as much. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, voice barely a whisper ghosting against his skin, swiping his thumbs across the delicate skin, wiping away the tears as they fell. 

“Yes. I just…” A pause, stagnant and lingering in the air. “I never thought I’d see you again.” The words were punctuated by a sudden, harsh grip on the lapels of his coat as he clung to him, pulling him closer to him, his grip almost desperate as if he was worried that he’d fade into thin air at a moment's notice. He leaned into the touch, allowed his body to be moved, happily melting into the softer form. 

The weight of the words pressed down on Boris’s heart, causing him to fight his chest to draw in an adequate breath. Tears began to well up in his own eyes, threatening to spill over at the sheer emotion he had been hit with. Hearing the tremble in his voice at that admittance, how he wasn’t sure that he’d ever see him again. He saw a hopelessness lingering in his eyes, as if it had set up a permanent residence there and had taken all of his optimism with it. He could see it now, a lingering darkness in his eyes, as if a black cloud had descended and begun to claim him. He’d always known that one way or another, he’d return to his love, but he allowed himself for a moment to imagine how Valery had felt. Wondering, every day, whether Boris would come back to him, would find a way to reunite the both of them — he wished that he had been able, in those moments, to tell him that he had been working tirelessly to figure out a way to bring them back together, if only to ease the evident depression that had tumbled down on him. His heart broke as he thought of Valery alone, isolated, fearing that nobody would come and rescue him. That he would die alone. The thought of him feeling this way was enough to crumple his heart like a piece of paper, the pain it brought with it incredible, taking his breath away in one swoop. 

“I was always going to come back to you, Valera,” he whispered, dropping his forehead against his love’s as they stood there, holding on to one another. 

Then, they cried together. With their foreheads pressed tightly against one another’s; noses delicately brushing, lips parted and barely ghosting against the other’s, heated breath breezing over their faces, hands desperately clutching to each other. Their tears fell in perfect synchronisation, each of them attempting to hold their gazes firmly as emotion spilled from them along with their tears. They cried for the time they’d lost, the worry that they’d both held for one another, the exhaustion of wondering whether they would ever see the other again. Valery cried in relief that the one man he’d ever loved was standing before him, holding him like his life depended on it (and he certainly felt that pouring from his touch), he cried at the relief his body felt now that he wasn’t alone. Wasn’t under the increasing pressure of the black, depressive cloud that had fallen mercilessly down onto him. He didn’t feel helpless anymore. Didn’t feel like he needed to take a way out of life, to end it before the pain got any worse. His reason for living had returned, and he couldn’t help but tremble with pent up emotion, his body shaking as sobs wracked through him. Boris dropped his hands to wrap around his waist as he registered that he was shaking against his body, wrapping his arms as tightly around him as he could, attempting to ground him. His own tears continued to fall as he did, but they began to cease as his emotions descended into happiness. Happiness that, despite everything, they’d found one another again. He’d managed to find a way back to him, to save him. 

He didn’t need verbal confirmation that Valery had reached the end of his tether and that he’d arrived at just the right time. His body was speaking everything for him, boldly and as clearly as if he’d just shouted it at the top of his lungs. 

“I love you, Valera,” he whispered through his tears, voice shaking, clutching impossibly tighter to his love. 

Valery released a small whimper in reaction, sniffing and breathing in sharply, pulling away just enough to presumably allow his tear-reddened eyes to focus. As he did, a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and thoroughly melted Boris’s heart into absolute putty. 

“I love you, my Borja,” he whispered, his smile growing into one that, truthfully, took his breath away. There was genuine happiness in that smile. Though tears were still steadily rolling down his cheeks, he could see remnants of happiness beneath the sadness. He could see it, clear as the morning sun, and his heart leapt in hope. He knew then, that there was an abundance of hope for them… But for now, he simply wanted to be with his love. 

Just… _be_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, hopefully, should be up in the next couple of days! I hope you enjoyed this one and forgive me for the sizeable wait!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may have noticed that this is a republish of a work I originally posted a couple of months ago. I sat down to write chapter two to this, but I realised it should've been chapter one, so I have decided to shuffle things around a little. I hope you all enjoy!


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